


come fly with me

by onebatch2batch



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Fear of Flying, Frank helps, Frank's family is still alive, He and Maria are just divorced, Karen has an anxiety attack, Neighors on an airplane AU, Note the chapter count!, The punisher as a storyline doesn't exist, aerophobia, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:02:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29862666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onebatch2batch/pseuds/onebatch2batch
Summary: “How are you so calm about this?” Karen doesn’t get it. She’s trying to stave off an anxiety attack about a plane that hasn’t even started moving, and a complete stranger is clutching her vomit bag. Looking at her with a small, rueful smile that’s so attractive it’s only adding to the butterflies in her stomach.“Did a few tours overseas. When you’re jumpin’ out of ‘em it’s easier to forgot about the plane itself.”
Relationships: Frank Castle/Karen Page
Comments: 17
Kudos: 69





	come fly with me

**Author's Note:**

> This is a two part story! I haven't written the second part however it will bump up the rating :~)

_The plane isn’t going to crash. The plane isn’t going to crash. There’s a 1 in a 11 million chance of getting into a plane crash and dying. The plane isn’t going to crash. You’re going to be fine, stop being ridiculous._

Karen Page mentally repeats this mantra as she takes unsteady steps towards the door of the plane. It’s her first time ever flying and while some people would be excited, she’s been obsessively worrying for the past two weeks. Her anxiety has only increased in fervor since she stepped into the airport. Now she walks with the other economy passengers down a hallway that she can only describe as rickety; she can hear the sound of engines just outside.Daylight peeks through the cracks. She follows the line of people in front of her and swallows hard when the plane comes into view. 

_The plane isn’t going to crash._

Just inside the threshold several people are stationed to greet the oncoming passengers. They smile at her welcomingly as she steps through. One must be the captain, with her hair hidden by a black cap and golden buttons shining on her jacket. She looks calm and friendly, but even that doesn’t help Karen’s nerves. The stewardesses beside the captain offer a bright _Welcome!_ as she passes. 

The plane itself is...not as big as she imagined. There’s four seats per row, divided down the middle by the aisle. The ceiling is only a foot or two above her head. It's almost like climbing into an oversized school bus, but with every step she feels the walls closing around her. Getting on the plane was a struggle, but making it to her row is a feat on it’s own, and one that temporarily distracts her as she watches others fight with their bags and the tight space. Karen clutches her own carry-on firmly to her chest. She wishes she would have had a drink before boarding. She _should_ have drank before boarding. 

When she does get to her seat--J2, which she’s checked probably a hundred times since entering the airport--her seatmate hasn’t arrived. She excuses herself to the people trying to get past and stores her bag overhead as quickly as possible before dropping into her seat. As the other passengers file past her, she gazes outside. Karen is perhaps three or four rows in front of the wing of the plane. Just beyond her window, workers in bright yellow jackets walk and ride past. Several are loading luggage into the bottom of the plane. Another few stand around, heads bent. She can only imagine what they’re saying.

 _We got a problem with the engine, sir, but it_ **_should_ ** _be fine until we get to Vegas._

_When’s the last time somebody checked the air locks on this thing?_

_I heard there’s a lightning storm brewing--too bad the plane’s not insulated._

“Excuse me, ma’am?”

Karen jumps, jerking her head up to find the raspy voice directed at her. The man standing beside her is staring at her with a thick, furrowed brow. He’s got a large, crooked nose and short cropped hair. His beard is full with small flecks of silver. He’s so handsome that for a moment, Karen has absolutely no idea what he wants from her. 

“Um, yes?” 

“Ah, do you mind if I--?”

He holds up his ticket and points towards the window seat next to her.

“Oh!” Karen jumps up, nearly knocking her head on the control panel above her seat. “Of course, I’m so sorry.” 

It takes a lot of shuffling between him, the people in the aisle and herself to get her seatmate into J1, but after a moment of awkwardness they’re both seated appropriately and Karen has only the seat in front of her to look at. There’s a small screen displaying several menus which she leans forward to swipe through. A movie selection, music playlist, plane information, and a plane tracker. She scrolls through the movies restlessly, tapping her foot. 

_The plane is not going to crash._

Her seatmate glances out the window and then pulls out a book. He begins to read, unbothered. 

Karen grimaces. If only it were that easy to forget that she’s on a flying metal petri dish slash deathtrap. After 28 years of life, she’s managed to avoid it until now. Now, her job demands that she fly out West to Las Vegas for a piece on their city’s mayor and his success with lowering crime rates. Now, she’s strapped in for three hours and forty two minutes of possible death via falling fireball. Or lack of oxygen. Or crash landing into a lake and drowning. Or crash landing into a mountain. Or--

“Ma’am? You alright?”

That deep baritone yanks her out of her head once more. Karen turns to look at her neighbor’s worried frown and realizes she’s breathing heavily. Like a weirdo. 

“You’re not gonna throw up, are you?”

“No promises,” she laughs weakly, gesturing at the baggie she’s placed in easy reach in the pocket in front of her. She’s mortified; already this poor man has to deal with her irrational fears. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I’m not going to be a very good neighbor.”

Her seatmate cocks his head, surveying her. He’s got a very intense look about him, as if he’s peering straight into her head. It’s a little unnerving, but then again--that just seems to be the theme today. Maybe she’s projecting. “First time flyin’?”

She nods. There’s only a few people left yet to find their seats, and then the engine will kick on and they’ll be rolling down the runway in preparation for liftoff. And the universe would never be so cruel as to prove her fears right when other people’s lives are at stake, so she’s really not sure why she’s feeling a little light headed--

“Look, my daughter had a tough time too. Took her to Florida one year, thought she was going to pass out.” He chuckles, scratching his cheek absently. Karen tracks the movement. Maybe if she just thinks about how good-looking her neighbor is, she can pretend this isn’t happening. It’s certainly worth a shot. “Turns out, she just needed a good distraction. And lucky for her--and you--I’m a pro at distraction.”

Karen blinks in surprise. “How are you going to distract me from--this?” She gestures outside his window vaguely. Instantly, her mind pictures about three different ways he can _distract_ her, and none of them are appropriate. She shuts the thoughts away. 

He closes his book and stores it in the seat in front of him, and then reaches over and closes the blind. “We can start there, and then move on to names. I’m Frank.”

Karen smiles at him gratefully and takes his proffered hand. “Karen, nice to meet you. And--thank you. I’ve really, really been dreading this.”

His grin is wry. “Couldn’t tell. So what’s so important it’s got you here?”

The light above her seat flashes with the seatbelt warning. Outside the window, she can hear the engines kicking on. “Um--...” she starts, and then falters as she fumbles with her seatbelt. “I’m--a journalist. My editor sent me out to Vegas for a story.”

Frank opens his mouth to respond, but he’s cut off when the stewardess begins to walk them through her safety speech. Karen listens attentively as the skirted woman goes over the exits and protocols in case of a crash. Halfway through, the panic really sets in. As the stewardess demonstrates the proper use of oxygen masks, Karen’s heart begins to pound. She starts to feel a little sick. Her mouth is full of cotton balls. The engines grow louder and louder, and after a moment Karen realizes that it’s not the engine, it’s the roaring of blood in her ears. It’s not a comforting thought.

“Karen, hey. Karen, look at me.”

She turns her head towards Frank and meets his gaze. He’s leaning towards her in concern and he’s got her baggie in one hand. When he speaks his voice is calm and quiet. She has to focus to hear, and it temporarily distracts her from the panic. “Look, it’s fine, we’re gonna be okay. Just breathe.”

“How are you so calm about this?” Karen doesn’t get it. She’s trying to stave off an anxiety attack about a plane that hasn’t even started moving, and a complete stranger is clutching her _vomit bag_. Looking at her with a small, rueful smile that’s so attractive it’s only adding to the butterflies in her stomach. 

“Did a few tours overseas. When you’re jumpin’ out of ‘em it’s easier to forgot about the plane itself.”

Her heart does another flip at the thought of careening down to earth outside the plane. Somehow, it does help her nerves--at least she’s seated. At least no one is expecting her to strap on a parachute and jump. “Wow--um. That’s kind of impressive, actually.”

He gives her an arched brow. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Her smile comes out as more of a grimace as the plane begins to roll backwards onto the tarmac. Conversation around them climbs in volume as the other passengers fight to be heard over the engine noise. The plane turns and then heads down the runway as Karen fights to keep her breathing even. “So what--what do you--uh…”

She shuts her eyes as the plane comes to a stop. This is it, this is what she’s been dreading for the last few weeks. The plane is gearing up--a couple hundred feet in front of her there’s a captain flipping switches and confirming air space and whatever they do to get this thing in the air. And no one else around her is worried. She shouldn’t be worried. 1 in 11 million chance. Eleven _million_. There’s over a hundred other passengers on this plane who probably haven’t extensively researched the odds of a crash, who are chatting about their plans once they land. Frank is also saying something, but she doesn’t hear because suddenly the engines rumble to life and they’re accelerating down the runway. Karen sucks in a breath and clasps her hands on the armrests for something to ground her, for anything to remind her that she’s okay, this is fine, everything is fine. 

Her right hand meets warm, dry skin. Thick, strong fingers that wrap around herself without pause. Frank’s hand, pulling her back to Earth. 

“One batch, two batch,” he tells her, and Karen peeks open an eye to look at him. She’s never been so grateful for a closed window. Or a man who is willing to hold a random panicking woman’s hand.

“What?” she croaks. 

“That’s what my daughter used to say, when the plane took off. It was her favorite book when she was younger. Used to read it to her every night. One batch, two batch.” He squeezes her hand gently. “Say it, Karen.”

“What does that even mean?” she mumbles, squeezing his hand back gratefully. She must be hurting him or cutting off circulation, but he doesn’t comment. 

Instead, he says: “Does it matter?”

Karen takes a shuddering breath and lets it out in a whoosh as the plane suddenly lifts. It’s a feeling of weightlessness that she can only equate to the falling sensation of being on a rollercoaster. She hates it. “One batch, two batch. One batch, two batch. One batch--”

“Breathe,” Frank murmurs. He repeats the words with her until the seatbelt light turns off. The plane evens back out. Karen opens her eyes tentatively. 

He grins at her. It’s like sunshine after a storm. “Look at you, you’re flying. You’re a natural.”

His joke yanks a weak laugh out of her. She carefully releases his hand and hopes she’s not red as a tomato--she’s been embarrassing enough today. “I could do this every day,” she says with a confidence she doesn’t feel. “I didn’t even need the baggie.”

“Maybe you should consider applying to be a pilot,” he says lightly, smirking, and she huffs. 

“Very funny. God, I need a drink.”

Frank chuckles, leaning back in his seat. She eyes the way his arm flexes as he unbuckles his seatbelt. “Now you’re talkin’.”

\--

The stewardess comes by with snacks and alcohol. He’s drinking wine, a light pink Rose that had made her blink in surprise when he asked. Karen pays for Frank’s drinks - despite his protests - as a thank you. He grumbles something she doesn’t hear but accepts the drink anyways, and Karen takes a large gulp of her Jack and Coke. 

“So,” she starts, glancing at him. Now that they’re flying smoothly through the air, it’s easier to pretend they’re on the ground. That they’re just in a really loud, giant city bus. “How old is your daughter?”

“Fifteen, now.” He grimaces. “She’s learning to _drive._ ”

Karen laughs softly. “Is she your only one?”

“Nah, my son is a few years younger. Still thinks he’s too cool to hang out with his dad, but at least he isn’t terrorizing the streets like his sister.” Frank smiles ruefully, takes another sip of his wine. Karen can’t help but look at his ring finger, and he huffs when he notices. “Yeah, my wife and I split up a couple years ago. Decided we weren’t the kids from high school, anymore.”

“I’m sorry, that must have been hard.” Karen says this as sincerely as possible, even if her brain has automatically filed **not married** under _Very_ _Important Things To Know About Frank_.

He lifts a shoulder. “Sure. I loved her. Still do, but not like that. She’s the mother of my kids--that doesn’t just go away. And anyways, they live over in Ohio now.”

Karen takes another drink and fumbles with the wrapper on her peanuts. She’d honestly laughed when the stewardess passed them over, thinking that was only in the movies. Frank had tossed his over with a wide grin. _Souvenir,_ he told her with a chuckle. She tries to think of something else to make him laugh, or at least smooth the line between his brows. 

“It could be worse--you could be babysitting a full grown woman on a plane.” 

It works. He chuckles and knocks her arm with his elbow. “It’s not so bad. I once had another Marine hurl directly into my lap. Just turned and let it rip.”

“Oh my god.” She snorts into her drink. “Tell me you were able to change.”

“Oh no. Worst part is we were fifteen minutes from landing. Had to sit with it.” 

Karen groans on his behalf. “You deserve a medal for that.”

He huffs, tossing back his wine. The plastic cup looks criminally small in his hand. “Who said I didn’t?” 

\--

“6 down. _LOTR menace_. Four letters.”

Frank taps his finger in thought, peering down at the crossword in front of her. They’re about a third of the way through it and getting nowhere fast. “Lord of the Rings? Shit...I was always more of a Star Wars guy.”

“I was more into Star Trek,” Karen mutters, furrowing her brow in thought. It’s been incredibly hard to focus with him constantly edging into her space. He’s wearing some earthy cologne that’s making her head swim pleasantly. “There’s a c, for the third letter.”

“Oh--orcs.” He leans back, grinning. Karen smiles back, filling in the letters with a glance at the screen in front of her.

One hour down. 

\--

They give up after another half hour with the crossword, calling the stewardess over for refills. Their puzzle sits woefully barren as they fall back into conversation. The window shade remains shut. 

“So you’re from New York, then?” Karen asks once they’ve both been handed another drink. 

Frank nods. He’s angled slightly towards her, leaning against the wall of the plane. His shoulders barely fit in the space. His knee is just over the invisible terf line between them, but she can’t bring herself to care. “Born and raised. How ‘bout you?”

“I’ve lived there for a few years, but I’m from Vermont. It’s a really small town called Fagan Corners.” She shrugs. “It’s about four stop lights and a lot of rednecks.”

“Why’d you move to New York?”

 _My drug dealer boyfriend and my dead brother._ She smiles thinly. “It’s a long story. My brother died and I couldn’t--Kevin was...I just couldn’t be there, anymore. So I moved to the biggest place I could think of, where no one would know anything about me. I just wanted to disappear.”

He does that thing again, where his eyes rove over her face with an intent that makes her feel carved out from the inside. Like he knows everything she’s thinking and more. She expects him to press for details, but he just takes another drink and says, “New York’s the place to do that. Bet you never had a good piece of pizza before you left Vermont, huh?”

“What is it with New Yorkers and pizza?”

\--

“So, Foggy--he,” Karen giggles into her drink, “he crawls out from under this pool table, and there’s gum all over his suit, but he still found it. And then I told him it was just a fake diamond, and that I had other earrings at home. He was so upset. I ended up buying his dry cleaning.”

Frank shakes his head, amused. “At least he looks after you. Can’t say that about most guys, these days.”

“You’re telling me,” she sighs, and then pauses. “Wait, no--Foggy isn’t. I mean. He’s not my boyfriend, or anything.”

Frank stacks his third plastic cup and shoots her a glance. “Yeah?”

“Well I mean, I love him but he’s Foggy. No way.” Karen can feel herself blush. She clears her throat. “But yeah, anyways. It’s just me.”

They watch each other for a long moment, until the stewardess returns to ask for their trash. “Would you both like another drink?” she asks pleasantly. 

Karen releases her breath and looks away. “No, thank you.”

Her screen shows one hour left.

\--

Karen excuses herself to the bathroom with forty five minutes left. It’s in the very rear of the plane and she has to wait for the two people already in line before she’s able to wrestle with the small, folding door to get inside. There’s just enough space to turn when she closes the door. After she’s relieved herself and washed her hands, Karen looks at herself in the mirror critically. 

She’s in a flannel shirt and jeans. Her hair is down in soft waves around her shoulders. She sends a grateful prayer up to whoever’s listening that she decided to put make up on this morning, because her lips are still a soft pink and her mascara is still intact. She looks good. She looks like someone who could ask a stranger on a plane out. 

_The plane isn’t going to crash, and neither are you_.

Karen returns to her seat to find Frank reading his book. He puts it away once she’s sitting down. “Seatbelt light just came on, we’re descending. You gonna be okay?”

All thoughts of dates and romance go flying out of her mind. Her brain suddenly reminds her that she’s careening through the sky in a metal tube. She clips on her seatbelt and takes a deep breath. “Sure, sure. I’m just going to pretend I’m not in a giant metal box flying towards a bunch of mountains.”

“That’s the spirit,” he says dryly. “Or...you could face your fears head on.”

“Like parachuting?” She huffs, grasping her knees when she feels the nose of the plane tilt down. 

Frank makes a small amused noise in the back of his throat. “Or just look out the window.”

She stares at him incredulously. He must be joking. “I almost had a panic attack when we were going up. You want me to _watch_ as we go down?”

“Sure. You lived through that part, why not this part?”

She squints at him, trying to detect if he’s making fun or being sincere. Around them, the conversation has lulled to a dull murmur as people begin putting up their seat trays and clipping on their seatbelts. Frank doesn’t lift his gaze from hers, waiting for her to respond. He looks sincere and calm. Karen relaxes slightly, biting her lip in thought. _He thinks you can do it. Everyone else does it. They actually like it. Maybe he’s right about facing it head on. It’s worked for other people. God, I’m so going to regret this._

“...okay.”

Franks grins. “No shit?”

His excitement spurs her on, just a little. She nods, sucking in a deep breath. “Yeah, I’ll try it. How bad can it be?”

“Okay. You tell me when you’re ready.”

The screen in front of her reads twenty minutes left. She hesitates, twisting her fingers in her lap. “Can you--I mean…”

He waits patiently. Karen plows through the next few words quickly, cheeks flaming. “ _Canyouholdmyhandagain?”_

His smile softens. He grasps her hand with his own, squeezing it gently. There’s no trace of mockery in his gaze--just warmth and understanding. She feels a surge of electricity down her spine when his thumb brushes over her knuckles. “‘Course. Ready? This is my favorite part.”

She nods, feeling a little more sturdy. “Okay, I’m ready. Go ahead.”

\--

“Wow,” Karen says again. 

“I know.”

“Frank. _Wow_.”

“Karen, I know.” He’s grinning at her in amusement but she can’t bring herself to care that she’s repeated the same word since they landed and throughout the disembarking of the first half of the plane. 

“That was...insane. All the mountains!” Karen beams at him. “Don’t get me wrong--it was still terrifying. And sorry, again, about your hand. But wow.”

“Ah, it’s fine.” He chuckles, and then jerks his chin. “We’re up.”

The seats in front of them are finally empty. Karen hops out of her own and moves aside to let Frank out. The aisle is cramped between the two of them, so she merely points to her bag and smiles apologetically at the other impatient passengers behind them. Frank manages to get both their bags down and passes hers along, and then they’re moving down the aisle towards the exit. 

“Welcome to Las Vegas!” the stewardess calls as they pass, and this time Karen is able to offer a bright smile in return. 

They step out of the plane and Frank shoots her a crooked grin. “So? Was that so bad?”

“You were right, you’re a pro at distraction.” Karen laughs. “It was still not my idea of a good time, but...definitely not as bad as it could have been.”

“I’ll take it.”

They edge around the corner of the hall and come out into a large lobby. There’s a crowd of waiting people, searching for loved ones or business partners. The other passengers move to join the growing crowd and Karen turns to Frank, determined to shoot her shot before he does the same. When she looks at where he was, the spot is empty. Her eyes find him jogging up to a tall, dark skinned man. They embrace, pounding backs, and Karen realizes she was about to do something so, so stupid.

 _What makes you think he wants to spend anymore time with you? He just had to spend four hours of his life babysitting an aerophobic woman on a plane, and now he’s on vacation. Or maybe work? Wow--you didn’t even ask. No wonder he was so happy to get away from you._

It’s only right she leaves him be and stops taking up more of his time. Before she can change her mind, Karen turns and strides away towards baggage. Quickly enough that she doesn’t see a pair of dark eyes swinging back and forth to find her in the crowd.

\--

It’s muscle memory that takes over when Frank walks out into the airport lobby and see Curtis Hoyle standing there. It’s muscle memory from every tour he ever came back from and every time his friend showed up to bring his sorry ass home when Maria couldn’t. Frank catches sight of his friend--complete with his stupid _Mr. Frank Castle_ sign--and his face breaks out into a grin. He’s been doing that a lot today. 

Frank jogs over and hugs his friend tightly, chuckling. 

“That goddamn sign. You ever gonna throw that shit out, Curt?”

“Hell no. It’s good to see you, Frank. You look good.”

Curtis has been in Las Vegas for the past six months getting ANVIL’s western branch up off the ground. Frank is there on loan from the eastern branch for some fancy gala happening tomorrow night, and it’s a relief to see his friend after so long. It’s been tough back in New York without him, and Frank tells him as much. 

“You sap,” Curt huffs fondly. “Ready to go?”

“Hang on, I want to introduce you to--”

Frank pauses, turning a full circle. Karen had been right next to him. He searches the crowd to see if maybe she’s finding her own ride, but that long blond hair and those bright blue eyes are nowhere to be found. She’s disappeared. “Ah, shit.”

Curtis frowns. “Everything alright?”

“Oh yeah.” Frank clasps his friend’s shoulder with a wry grin. “Everything will be fine. I’ll tell ya in the car.”

—

It takes nearly an hour to get out of the airport and to her hotel. Mood officially soured by her own cowardice and traffic, Karen drops her bag onto her bed and flops down next to it. It’s a stupidly soft, huge mattress with a stupidly plush comforter on top. That’s she’s going to have to sleep in alone. Not that she was expecting anyone else to join her tonight, but after the last few hours there had been a small tendril of hope that maybe, she wouldn’t be completely on her own this weekend. Tomorrow she’s scheduled for an interview with the mayor followed by a charity gala, but tonight she’s by herself. 

She’s never been to Vegas; she should go out on the town, see the sights, be a tourist. 

Or she could order in and wallow.

There were so many chances to ask Frank out. He was obviously interested--how did she manage to talk herself out of it so thoroughly at the airport? In fact, it’s almost like the universe put her onto a plane and then threw her a bone: _“We know you hate flying but here’s a nice, hot guy who’ll sit next to you and hold your hand and help you conquer your fears. But you have to ask him out or you’ll never see him again._ ” And then she completely fucked it up. She didn’t even thank him or say goodbye. What is wrong with her?

Karen groans, smacking an overly-plush pillow over her face. She’s probably getting lipstick on it. She doesn’t care. 

How about that, universe. 

After a few more minutes of silent wallowing, Karen decides she’ll start working on her article. If she’s going to stay in, she might as well be productive. Her laptop and charger are in her carry on, and so she sits up and starts rifling through the bag with an annoyed grumble. When she opens the front pocket in search of a pen, there’s a neatly folded napkin with her name on it. She stares at it wordlessly, confused. She doesn’t remember putting a napkin in there. 

_Karen_ , it reads. _Didn’t want to come off as a creep on the plane and didn’t want to risk losing you after baggage claim. Wondered if you got some free time tonight, you wanna get a drink? One that doesn’t come in a plastic cup. -Frank_

There’s a blocky, ten digit number after.

Karen releases a loud, hysterical laugh. “Okay universe, I fucking get it. You win.”

She should be ashamed with how quickly she pulls out her cell phone and dials the number, but Frank picks up on the second ring with a murmured, hopeful, “ _Karen?_ ” and her shame melts away into a warm, giddy feeling. Her stomach flips pleasantly and it's so similar to the feeling of the plane taking off that for a moment she’s gobsmacked with the realization of it all. Her lightheaded, excited reaction to Frank is just like the feeling of being in flight. Is _that_ why people enjoy flying so much? It must be. She bites down on the wide smile that breaks across her face. “Hi, Frank.”

“ _Jesus, I turned around and you were gone_ .” He laughs, relieved. There’s another man’s voice in the background, and then the sound of a closing door. “ _Glad you called_.”

“Glad you left a note.” She picks at a fuzz on her shirt, trying for casual. “Very smooth, by the way. And I do. Have some free time tonight, I mean.”

“ _Alright then._ ” Frank clears his throat, but his next words still come out raspy. She can picture the look on his face; brow lifted, smile crooked, eyes intense and searching. “ _Karen, can I take you to dinner tonight?_ ”

“I thought it was just a drink?” she teases, flopping back onto the bed. 

“ _That was before you called and before I almost lost you_ .” He laughs softly. “ _Now I think I want to buy you dinner. That alright with you, ma’am_?”

She pulls the phone away and gives herself a second to roll over, pressing her face into the comforter with a silent shriek. The urge to release a girlish giggle is overwhelming. When she’s sure it won't escape she brings the phone back. “Yes, that’s perfect.”

“ _Okay_ ,” he breathes, sounding relieved. As if she would ever actually say no. “ _I’ll pick you up at 7_?”

“I’ll send you the address.”

“ _See you soon, then._ ” There’s a smile in his voice. Karen hangs up and shoots off a text to the same number with her hotel information. The response is instantaneous. 

_No fuckin way. That’s my hotel too._


End file.
